He could feel the truck shake as the helicopter tried to lift it up off the road. Unlike many of Houston’s men, McMasters was a devout believer in what they were doing, and he’d had enough of Mitchell and his people. He jammed his pistol in his belt, opened his door, and took a quick look at the steel claw holding his truck tight in its grasp. He smiled when he saw several hydraulic hoses leading from a metal box to the four arms on the claw. If he could cut them, the metal hand would let go. He planted his foot on his open door and hauled himself up onto the roof of his truck. The wind pushed at his body, causing him to lean forward as he made his way towards the box containing the hydraulic hoses.
Mitchell couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw McMasters on the roof of the armored truck. He quickly brought the machine gun over and fired off a burst. The rounds went high; they were too close behind the truck. He doubted Cardinal could even see, let alone take a shot at McMasters from where he was. There was only one thing he could do. Mitchell leaned over, tapped Grace on the shoulder, and told her to close in right behind the truck.
Grace nodded and gently applied her foot to the gas pedal. Within seconds, the bumper of the Rover nudged the back of the truck.
Mitchell scampered from the back of the Rover, pushed down the windshield, and made his way out onto the vehicle’s hood. Like a surfer, he balanced himself on the hood and carefully reached over for the back of the truck. His fingers had just touched the truck when it suddenly began to rise up into the air. With his heart racing in his chest, Mitchell grabbed hold and scrambled to find a place to jam his feet as the truck left the road. With the truck climbing higher by the second, Mitchell swung his right foot over and set it on the steel bumper that ran along the back of the vehicle. A second later, he was standing on the bumper, holding on for dear life as the wind took the truck and turned it over to the right.
McMasters felt the truck begin to move. Before he knew it, he was sliding along the roof. With his arms flailing, he turned and reached out for one of the metal arms, just as he slid over the side. With his hands wrapped around the claw, McMasters hung over the side of the truck trying desperately to scramble his way back onto the roof before he fell to his death.
Grace watched the truck lift off the ground and steadily climb up into the sky. There was now nothing between her and Houston. With the image of Midori lying dead in her mind and a burning desire for revenge in her heart, she reached over and grabbed an AK lying on the seat beside her. She set the AK on her lap, changed gears, and sped after Houston. Someone had to pay for Midori, and as far as Grace was concerned, Houston was the man behind her death and he was going to die no matter what.
52
“Yuri, you’re not going to believe it, but Ryan’s hanging off the back of the truck,” said Sam into her mic.
“Is he okay?” asked Yuri.
“Looks okay, but I think there’s someone else hanging off the side of the truck, as well.”
Suddenly, the side of the helicopter seemed to tear itself apart as dozens of holes were blasted into the fuselage.
Sam ducked inside and covered her head with her hands as the bullets flew through the air just above her and Cardinal.
A moment later, a dark-green, Albanian Air Force Bo-105 helicopter shot past. Its side door was wide open. Sam saw a door-gunner wave at them before setting both hands back onto the handle of his Russian-made PKM machine gun.
“Yuri, we’ve got company!” hollered Sam.
A split second later, Yuri banked his helicopter over in the air and flew away from the mountain road, aiming for the wide-open valley below. He didn’t need to be told that they were a sitting duck. He looked over his shoulder and saw that the smaller and more agile attack helicopter was pursuing them.
Mitchell hung on to the back of the truck as it swung in the air. He could see the ground coming up much too quickly. If Yuri didn’t compensate for the truck hanging beneath his helicopter, he was going to smash it into the valley floor. At the last second, the helicopter stopped its downward dive and leveled out about fifty meters above the ground.
Mitchell put his foot on a door handle at the back of the truck and hauled himself up onto the roof just as McMasters did the same.
Mitchell reached for his pistol, only it wasn’t there. It had fallen out when he had jumped from the Rover onto the back of the truck. He saw McMasters reach into his own pocket. With a loud cry, Mitchell charged McMasters and hit him in the chest before he could pull his weapon out.
Both men tumbled and landed hard on the roof of the vehicle. Mitchell was about to haul back his fist to strike his opponent in the face when Yuri was forced into another wild maneuver as the attack helicopter opened fire. Right away, Mitchell could feel the truck begin to swing over to the right. He let go of McMasters and dove for the nearest arm as the truck canted over in the air. He barely had time to grab hold of the arm. A moment later, his entire body slid over the side of the truck. He found himself holding onto the arm at the back of the truck while McMasters was in the same predicament at the front. Thankfully, McMasters can’t go for his gun, Mitchell thought.
With his left arm wrapped tightly around the steel arm, McMasters dug into his jacket and pulled out his pistol. With a smirk, he brought up his arm and took aim at Mitchell. “You lose, Mitchell,” said McMasters as he pulled the trigger.
Mitchell saw the gun in McMaster’s hand. He never heard the shot. A split-second later, a burning-hot pain shot through his left arm. Glancing down, he saw that the bullet had grazed him. Blood was already pouring from the deep groove cut into his skin. With anger seething inside him, Mitchell kicked out with his legs, trying to hit McMasters’ outstretched hand. His first attempt missed, but it forced McMasters to pull his arm in slightly.
A moment later, Yuri was forced to evade another run from the attack helicopter. This time the truck began to swing over to the left. Like a pendulum, the truck swung down underneath the helicopter, bringing Mitchell and McMasters with it. Neither man saw it until it was too late. Yuri’s maneuver had forced him lower to the ground. The truck crashed through a tall pine forest, knocking the tops off the trees.
Mitchell tried pulling his feet up towards his chest as the branches snapped off underneath the truck and flew everywhere, pummeling both men.
One thick branch flew up and hit McMasters’s right arm hard, snapping his wrist. McMasters howled in pain as his pistol flew from his hand.
Soon, they were out in the open again. Both men, injured and bruised, looked at one another for a moment. Their eyes said that neither man was going to give in until the other was dead. From opposite ends of the truck, they struggled to get back up onto the roof.
“Goddammit, I’ve seen enough,” said President Kempt as he watched the feed coming in from a UAV flying just below the clouds. “We can’t allow that helicopter to be shot down and risk the anthrax being released. Somebody do something about that other chopper and do it fast.”
Within seconds, the second Predator was diving from the sky. Having switched places with the unarmed UAV that Cardinal had shot down, the fully armed Predator was on the prowl.
“What can we use to bring down that damned attack helicopter?” demanded the president.
“Sir, the UAV was configured for a bombing mission,” said Patterson. “It’s not carrying any air-to-air missiles.”
“There has to be something you can do.”
“There is,” said O’Reilly over the speakerphone. “Get your Predator overtop of the Bo-105 and drop a laser-guided bomb right on top of him.”