‘To whom am I speaking?’ the Black Hawk commander asked.
‘Takavesi Raffara, ops officer, Airlander. To whom am I speaking?’
‘Mr Raffara, I ask the questions. I hold all the cards. Put Mr Jaeger on the air.’
‘Negative. I am the ops officer of this aircraft. All comms go via me.’
‘I repeat, put Mr Jaeger on the air.’
‘Negative. All comms go via me,’ Raff repeated.
Jaeger saw the foremost Black Hawk open fire, using its GAU-19, a fearsome six-barrelled 50-calibre Gatling gun. During the three-second burst, the air beneath the helicopter turned black with spent shell casings. In those three short seconds it had pumped out over a hundred armour-piercing rounds, each the size of a small child’s wrist.
The burst of fire had gone a good three hundred yards to the front of the Airlander’s flight deck, but the message it sent was crystal clear. We have the ability to rip you to shreds one hundred times over.
‘The next burst will be bang into your gondola,’ the Black Hawk commander threatened. ‘Put Jaeger on.’
‘Negative. I do not have Jaeger on board my aircraft.’
Raff was choosing his words very carefully. Technically speaking, it was true: Jaeger was not aboard the Airlander.
‘Listen very carefully, Mr Raffara. My navigator has identified a cleared area of land 150 kilometres due east, at grid 497865. You are to put down on that grid. And make no mistake: when you do so, I will need every member of your team accounted for. Confirm you understand my instructions.’
‘Wait out.’
Jaeger heard the bleep of an incoming message on his satphone: Response?
He punched out a reply: They get us down we’re dead. All of us. Resist.
Raff’s voice came up on the air again. ‘Black Hawk, this is Airlander. Negative. We are proceeding to our destination as planned. We are an international team embarked upon a civilian expedition. Do not – repeat, do not – interfere with this flight.’
‘In that case, take a good look at the open door of our lead aircraft,’ the Black Hawk commander countered. ‘You see that figure in the doorway: it is one of your beloved Indians. And as a bonus, we have some of your team members with us too.’
Jaeger’s mind was racing. The enemy must have overrun one of his ambush parties and captured at least some of them alive. From there it would have been easy enough to load them aboard the helicopter, using the Ju 390’s former resting place as a convenient landing zone.
‘I believe some of you may know this savage,’ the Black Hawk commander sneered. ‘His name means “the big pig”. Highly appropriate. Now, watch him fly.’
Moments later a stick-like figure tumbled out of the lead Black Hawk.
Even from such a distance, Jaeger could tell that it was an Amahuaca warrior, silently screaming as he fell. He was quickly swallowed by the cloud mass, but not before Jaeger figured he’d recognised the collar of short feathers strung around his neck – the gwyrag’waja – each feather signifying an enemy killed in battle.
He felt a blinding blaze of rage sweep over him, as the body of what appeared to be Puruwehua’s brother plummeted out of sight. Gwaihutiga had saved Jaeger’s life on the rope bridge, and now he’d very likely been hurled to his death as a result of Jaeger and his team trying to save their own skins. Jaeger smashed his fist into the wall of the aircraft, his mind a whirl of sickening anger and frustration.
‘I have several more of these savages,’ the Black Hawk commander continued. ‘For every minute you do not agree to alter course and bearing to grid 497865, another will be thrown to his death. Oh, and your expedition team – they will also follow. Do as ordered. Alter course. One minute and counting.’
‘Wait out.’
Again Jaeger’s phone bleeped with a message: Response?
Jaeger glanced at Dale and Narov: what the hell was he supposed to say? As if in answer, Narov waved the satchel full of documents at him.
‘There’s something they want on this warplane,’ she declared. ‘Something they need. They cannot shoot us down.’
Jaeger’s hand hovered over the Thuraya’s keypad as he willed himself to type what he knew he had to. With a wave of bitter nausea rising from the base of his guts he punched out the message: They need warplane intact. Will not shoot us down. Do not comply. Resist.
‘We are proceeding to destination as planned.’ Raff’s voice came up on the airwaves. ‘And be warned: we are filming your every action and beaming it live to a server, where it’s being uploaded to the internet.’ It wasn’t entirely true, of course, but it was a classic bit of Raff improvisation and bluff. ‘You are being filmed, and you will be arraigned and charged for your crimes—’
‘Bullshit,’ the enemy commander cut in. ‘We are a flight of unmarked Black Hawks. Don’t you get it, asshole? We are beyond deniable. We – don’t – exist. You think you can try ghosts for war crimes? Asshole. Change course as ordered, or face the consequences. The blood is on your hands…’
Another stick figure plunged from the helicopter.
As it tumbled through the blinding blue, Jaeger tried to blank from his mind the thought of Puruwehua slamming into the jungle far below. It was impossible to identify exactly which Indian the Black Hawk crew had tossed into thin air, but death was death; murder was murder.
How much blood would lie on his hands?
‘So far so good,’ the Black Hawk commander continued. ‘We have used up two of our quota of savages. We have one remaining. Will you comply with my orders, Mr Raffara, or does this last one have to learn to fly as well?’
There was no response from Raff. If they changed course and put the Airlander – and the Ju 390 – down on the grid as given, they were finished. They both knew that. During Krav Maga training, Raff and Jaeger had been taught the two orders never to comply with: one was being relocated; the other being tied up. Both spelled disaster. To obey such an order now would not end well for anyone.
Jaeger averted his eyes as a third figure spun through the sunlit skies, arms flailing helplessly as they tried to grab at the thin atmosphere. A memory flashed through Jaeger’s mind: it was of Puruwehua telling him how often he had flown like the topena, the big white hawk that soared over the mountains.
I have flown high as the topena, Puruwehua had told him. I have flown over wide oceans and to distant mountains.
The memory tortured Jaeger almost beyond his capacity to withstand.
‘So now, Mr Raffara – now we move on to the really interesting part. Act Two – your fellow team members. First up, look at the figure in our open doorway. He does not look very keen to learn to fly. Alter course towards the grid as given, or he is going to take a one-way journey to splattergeddon.’ The Black Hawk commander laughed at his own joke. ‘One minute and counting…’
Jaeger’s satphone bleeped. Response?
Jaeger could see the shock of white-blond hair glistening in the sun as a figure was forced towards the Black Hawk’s doorway. Though Jaeger believed Stefan Kral to be the traitor in their midst, he couldn’t be absolutely certain, and the thought of Kral’s young family at home in Luton further twisted and cramped his guts.
He forced himself to punch out a reply. Warn them that CE has fast jets on the way. Keep him talking.
‘We are proceeding to destination as planned.’ Raff’s voice came up on the air. ‘And be warned – we have an escort of Brazilian air force fast jets inbound—’
‘We know all about your B-SOB friends,’ the Black Hawk commander cut in. ‘You think you have friends in high places!’ He laughed. ‘You would not believe where we have friends. In any case, the colonel’s aircraft are a good ninety minutes away. Comply with my orders, or more will die.’