"Hey you, kid," snapped Ruark. "Get out of that Jeep."
"Stay where you are, Chip. Don't move," countermanded Bolan. He could crook his arm now, Danny was almost home free. "You were in that mess around Khe Phong, weren't you, Ruark?"
"Yeah..." What the hell did this guy know about that?
"And you got a Purple Heart, didn't you?"
"What the hell's that to you? Yeah, I was wounded at Khe Phong."
"Then this little lady, as you call her, might just be one of the women who patched you up!"
Ruark was stunned; even the muzzle of his gun dropped slightly to one side. Danny seized hold of Bolan's arm as he dragged her onto the gravel.
Billy Joe Hooker waved his rifle at the Hog. "Cap'n told you to climb out of there, kid. Do it!"
This time Kevin did as he was told. He stood up, his head hung meekly, ashamed to be giving in to these bullies. No one expected him to be holding the Uzi.
Ruark was still trying to place the big guy with the piercing blue eyes when the first long burst hit him in the chest. He died with a puzzled frown creasing his forehead.
Hooker was nicked in the side. He spun around and dropped his weapon in surprise at the stinging pain.
Kevin's lips were drawn back tightly. He uttered an unintelligible scream and kept on firing. The withering hail of bullets cut down Zayoud's men; one peppered in the abdomen, the other dying with a shot through the face. The magazine was exhausted.
The boy stood there, gripping the top of the wheel, trying to stop trembling.
Danny sat leaning against the front of the Hog, too drained to move. Bolan ran up the short slope and picked up the nearest rifle. Billy Joe Hooker was whimpering for mercy. He was on his knees, rocking back and forth, holding a blood-smeared hand against his side.
"On your feet, Hooker! You've got a tire to change."
Billy Joe Hooker was forced to drag the bodies of his comrades out of sight behind the knoll.
Bolan threw their weapons into the sinkhole and watched them disappear under the hungry sands while the Southerner, still pleading for his life, changed the ruined tire. Danny went to make sure Kevin was all right. The youngster had walked on farther down the track. His eyes were watery and he still shook with spasms of dryretching at the thought of what he had done. Before today death had been something he had only seen on TV: playacting on the detective shows, or sometimes for real on the news.
It was difficult to tell the difference. The toll in nuclear war was measured in megadeaths-figures so large they were meaningless. But until now Death had never touched him, involved him, used him as its agent... Kevin had never liked Ruark much, as the man strutted around the castle, but he would never forget that look on Ruark's face or the way he poked an accusing finger at Kevin as he collapsed on the slope back there.
"You did what had to be done, Kev," Danny said to him. "You saved our lives. It was very brave of you to stand up to them."
Kevin did not feel at all heroic. He still felt sick to his stomach.
"Are you brave enough to stand up for yourself? I'm sure things can be worked out. I'll be there and I'm going to speak up for you."
Kevin nodded. He did not turn to face her. He had to blink quickly to stop the tears threatening to trickle out. She was touching his arm; he placed his hand on top of hers yes, he wanted to go home.
"Ready to roll!" Bolan called out.
They trotted back to the Jeep together and climbed aboard.
"Hey, what about me?" whined Billy Joe.
"You're not worth a bullet. You can walk," said Bolan. He prodded the wounded merc, pointing to the quicksand patch.
Danny knew all too vividly the living horror of those sinking sands. "Please, Mack, no..."
Hooker stood there sweating it out.
The chilling gaze of those ice-blue eyes never wavered, but Bolan relented. He tossed his head and growled, "Back off you're on your own." Bolan stomped on the gas. The back wheels spewed a ton of grit all over the stranded Hooker.
15
Jack Grimaldi was still far out over the sea when he spotted the black smoke smudge.
It did not stop him from proceeding with the final approach. Everything had to be by the book. He tried raising the tower but only got some garbled Arabic and an earful of static. As he lost altitude over the gulf shallows he could pick out a ragged convoy beating a hasty retreat toward the airfield. There was more fighting along the coast road.
Grimaldi knew he was only a diversion, a means of distracting Hassan's attention, but right now it looked as if the rebel forces were already on the run. Of course, he would not put it past Bolan to have routed all of them single-handed.
Wheels down. Grimaldi adjusted the flaps.
He was perfectly positioned above the runway.
Jack was already pulling back on the controls. It did not look as if Mack needed him to stage a fake landing; these dogs were running off with their tails between their legs.
Grimaldi lifted off.
Bolan and his two companions could see the low, square outline of Abdel's house and the electrified compound fence beyond it. The dog came running across the scrub, yapping madly and chasing after them as Bolan drove around the corner to the gate.
The company watchman waved at Danica and hurried over with the key. Hamad, his brother, stood in the doorway, barring it with his arm to prevent the women and children from leaving the safety of the house. The little girl clutched at her uncle's trouser leg, peering around to watch what was happening.
"You're back! You'll be safe here, Professor Jones," promised Abdel, who apparently thought they had come to claim sanctuary in the Allied Oil storage depot.
"What's happening?" asked Danny. "Have you any news?"
"Terrible trouble," said Abdel, casting an apologetic look toward the heavens, "even if it is the will of Allah. There's been an uprising in the city. Hamad was driving the truck in... he had to turn back. The radio station has changed hands three times already."
"Has anybody been up here yet?" Bolan demanded as he strode over toward the top of the gravel track.
"No, sah'b. Some soldiers went past below." Abdel grinned. "I cheered for Zayoud... one of them must will."
Bolan examined the coast road through his glasses. The dark blob of a fast-moving car snapped into focus. It was another Rover dark blue this time fleeing the city and heading straight for them.
Since they had not showed at the airport, it should not have been too difficult to figure out their likely whereabouts. Bolan was not going to hang around to find out if Hassan wanted to settle a personal score with him, or if he wanted to use the boy as a hostage. He probably had both in mind.
"Abdel, get your family under cover. Don't show yourselves. Don't leave them, understand?"
"Yes, sah'b, but..."
"Just do it."
Bolan ran back to the Hog. The guard had left the gates open for him. He drove into the compound, swung past the stacked pipes and crates and drew up outside the shed.
"Help me with that other door."
Danny and Kevin tugged open the door on their side as Bolan pulled back the right-hand door. The air inside was stifling. Danny gasped it looked almost comical. Sitting in the center of the floor was the ultralight aircraft Bolan had assembled from Red Chandler's kit. The tubes and fabric he had claimed were tents made up the wings and open frame of the specialty designed plane; the so-called generator was its power plant. Bolan tested the controls. He flipped the switches exactly as memorized.
"Hop in, Kevin."
There were only two canvas bucket seats.
"You're going to have to sit on Danny's lap."
"Can this carry all three of us?"
"That's what we're about to find out."
The plane started forward with a jerk, then began to roll more smoothly down the incline. Bolan risked one quick look back through the dust cloud they were blowing out across the yard. The Rover came swinging through the gates. Its body was streaked with grime and pockmarked with half a dozen bullet holes. The driver aimed to smash them sideways.