"The luck of the draw," Pitt muttered to himself on the skeleton of what was left of the bridge. "He's warm, and I'm freezing half to death."
19
"Why is it Dirk gets all the choice projects?" groused Giordino. "I'll bet as we speak, he's sleeping in a warm, comfortable cabin on board the Polar Storm with his arms around some gorgeous female marine biologist."
He was soaked and shivering under the wind-driven sleet as he stumbled across the rocky slope toward the cave, carrying an armload of small branches he and Gunn had cut from scattered scrub brush they'd found growing around the mountain.
"We'll be warm, too, once the wood dries enough to catch fire," said Gunn. Walking slightly ahead of Giordino with his arms loaded with straggly branches almost bare of leaves, he thankfully stepped through the archway and into the tunnel. He threw his burden on the rocky floor and collapsed in a sitting position against one wall.
"I fear all we're going to do with this stuff is make a lot of smoke," Giordino murmured, removing his dripping foul-weather gear and wiping the water that had dribbled down his neck with a small hand towel.
Gunn handed Giordino a cup of the now cold coffee from the thermos, and the last of the granola bars. "The last supper," he said solemnly.
"Did Sandecker give you any idea as to when he can get us off this rock pile?"
"Only that transportation was on the way."
Giordino examined the dial of his watch. "It's been four hours. I'd like to make Cape Town before the pubs close."
"He must not have been able to charter another tilt-rotor and a pilot, or they'd have been here by now."
Giordino tilted his head, listening. He moved through the tunnel until he was standing under the archway. The sleet had fallen off to a light sprinkling rain. The overcast was breaking up, and patches of blue sky emerged between the swiftly moving clouds. For the first time in several hours, he could see far out to sea.
It was there like a flyspeck on a frosted window. As he watched, the speck grew into a black helicopter. Another mile closer, and he identified it as a McDonnell Douglas Explorer with a twin tail and no rear rotor.
"We have company," he announced. "A helicopter flying in from the northwest. Coming fast and low over the water. Looks like he's carrying air-to-ground missiles."
Gunn came and stood beside Giordino. "A helicopter doesn't have the range to fly here from Cape Town. It must have come from a ship."
"No markings. That's odd."
"Definitely not a South African military aircraft," said Gunn.
"I do not believe they're bearing gifts," said Giordino sarcastically. "Or they would have called and said to expect them."
The sound of the helicopter's turbines and rotor blades soon broke the cold air. The pilot was no daredevil, but very cautious. Flying a safe height above the cliffs, he hovered for at least three minutes while he studied the ledge that once held the tilt-rotor. Then he dropped down slowly, feeling his way through the air currents. The landing skids touched the rocky surface and the rotor blades slowly spun to a stop.
Silence then. Without the wind, the mountain slopes went quiet. After a short time lag, the big fifty-inch sliding cabin door opened and six men in black coveralls dropped to the ground. They looked as if they were carrying enough weapons and firepower to invade a small country.
"Strange-looking rescue party," said Giordino.
Gunn was already on his Globalstar phone, dialing the admiral in Washington. When Sandecker responded, Gunn said simply, "We have armed visitors in an unmarked black helicopter."
"This seems to be my day for putting out brush fires," Sandecker said caustically. "First Pitt and now you." Then his tone betrayed earnest concern. "How long can you hide out?"
"Twenty, maybe thirty, minutes," replied Gunn.
"A U.S. missile frigate is sailing at full speed toward St. Paul Island. The minute their helicopter is within range, I'll request the captain to send it aloft."
"Any idea, Admiral, how long that will be?"
There was a heavy pause, then, "Two hours, hopefully less."
"I know you tried," said Gunn quietly, a patient understanding in his voice, "and we thank you." He knew the admiral's hard shell was about to crack. "Not to worry. Al and I will be back in the office by Monday."
"See that you are," said Sandecker somberly.
"Goodbye, sir."
"Goodbye, Rudi. God bless. And tell Al I owe him a cigar."
"I will."
"How long?" Giordino asked, seeing the disquieting expression on Gunn's face and expecting the worst.
"Two hours."
"That's just peachy," Giordino grunted. "I wish someone would explain to me how those murdering slime knew we were here."
"Good question. We were part of a select group. No more than five of us knew the location where the Madras passengers found the black skull."
"I'm beginning to think they have an international army of finks," said Giordino.
The search party split up. Three of the armed men spread out fifty yards apart and began sweeping their way around the mountain. The other three took off in the opposite direction. It looked evident that they were going to spiral their way up the mountain until they found the tunnel.
"An hour," murmured Gunn. "It will take them the better part of an hour to stumble on the old road."
"More like five minutes," said Giordino, gesturing toward the helicopter that rose in the air. "The pilot will lead his buddies right to our doorstep."
"Think it will do any good to parley?"
Giordino shook his head. "If these guys are tied in with the bunch Dirk and I met in Telluride, they don't shake hands, hug, or give quarter."
"Two unarmed men against six loaded for bear. We need to even the odds."
"Got a plan?" asked Giordino.
"I certainly do."
Giordino gave the little man with the academic, nerdy look a bemused stare. "Is it evil, rotten, and sneaky?"
Gunn nodded, with an impish grin. "All that, and more."
The helicopter circled the mountain nearly four times before its pilot spotted the ancient road leading to the tunnel. Informing the two search teams, one of which was far around the other side of the mountain, he hovered over the road as a guide. The first team of three men converged on the road and advanced in a line, a good twenty yards apart. It was a classic penetration pattern- the first man concentrated on the terrain ahead as the second studied the upper slope of the mountain, while the third trained his concentration on the lower side. The helicopter then moved toward the second team to guide them along the easiest path to the road.
The first team on the road negotiated the landslides and approached the giant rock Gunn and Giordino had passed earlier just outside the tunnel entrance. The lead man moved around the rock and found himself standing outside the archway. He turned and shouted to the men behind. "I've reached a tunnel," he said in English. "I'm going in."
"Be wary of an ambush, number one," the second man in line shouted back.
"If they had weapons, they'd have used them by now."
The leader disappeared around the rock. Then two minutes later, the second man did. Out of sight to the others, the third man in line was approaching the rock, when a figure quietly rose up from the rocks where he had been buried. His concentration trained on reaching the tunnel, the searcher did not notice the soft clunk of loose rock or hear the almost silent crunch of footsteps at his back. He never knew what hit him as Gunn swung a large rock with such viciousness it fractured his skull, and he dropped without a sound.
Less than a minute later, the body was completely covered and hidden under a pile of rocks. A quick look to ensure that the helicopter was still out of sight on the other side of the mountain, and Gunn was creeping around the rock. This time, though, he was armed with an assault rifle, a nine-millimeter automatic pistol, and a combat knife, and protected by a body armor vest. He had also removed the searcher's radio. Gunn's sneaky survival plan was off to a running start.