Moore perused the map with a smile. “Guess this is what we need, Craig, unless the captain wants anything further.” He slipped the paper into his pocket. “Help me get these two in the truck. Let ’em sit next to their two dead buddies.”
Cranston and Moshenko approached the side of the hangar. With windows painted black, and no other way to give them a heads up, they were already behind the eight ball. More than anything, they worried what they might find.
They had been traveling less than five minutes, leaving the lights of the compound and the last truck behind them. But the going was slow, as the driver had to constantly swerve around potholes and deep cracks in the concrete surface, never repaired from previous earthquakes, and it probably never would be.
If their situation hadn’t been so serious, the Americans probably would have found it amusing, watching the guards trying to maintain their balance, trying to prevent themselves from falling out the back of the truck, letting loose with what was probably Italian swearing and hand pointing at the driver.
Grant was grateful the guards were distracted. It gave him just enough time to nudge Russo, getting his attention as he started sliding the knife from his sleeve, all the while keeping his eyes on Adler. Now was their chance.
He stood slowly, trying to maintain his balance as the truck pitched from side to side, the bed creaking with every sharp movement. He edged closer to the guards, and with one swift move, attacked the one closest to him, ramming his knife in just below the ribcage.
Russo was right behind Grant, ready to act. The guard started to jump up, when Russo grabbed him and jammed the knife into his chest, with a brief cry of agony leaving the man’s throat.
A shot rang out. Grant spun around, watching the third guard tumble out the back of the truck.
Waving a .45, Adler shouted, “Still have to cover your back, Skipper!”
Stunned at the sound, the driver nearly drove off the road, as his eyes focused on the mirror, not believing what he was seeing. He hit the brakes, with the truck skidding to a stop, throwing Grant and Russo off balance. Just as he started reaching for the Uzi on the seat, he saw one pointing at him through the glass window.
Taylor yelled, “Hands up! Hands up!” Whether the Italian understood the words or not, he threw the weapon to the side, and his hands up.
Grant smiled broadly as he walked back to Adler, but he had more shit to do, and fast, hoping they were far enough away to lessen the sound of the shot.
Cutting the rope from Adler’s hands, he ordered, “Get this truck off the road, and kill those lights! Vince! Pull that body off the road!” Russo jumped down. The body had tumbled into a ditch. He grabbed an arm and dragged it far enough from the road so it wouldn’t be seen, then he raced back to the truck.
Adler cut the rope from the other men, pointing to Justin. “Get in the cab and go! You, too, Doug!”
Justin and Taylor jumped from the truck and ran to the cab. Justin shoved the driver aside as Taylor jumped in the passenger side, grabbing the weapon off the seat.
Shutting off the lights, Justin gunned the engine and drove into the field. With hardly any visibility, he drove over rocks, mounds of hard-packed dirt and broken branches. The steering wheel was nearly wrenched from his hands as the truck careened across a shallow ditch.
Grant looked back in the direction of the compound. Not knowing if Moore had succeeded in stopping the last truck, he couldn’t take any chances. He shouted, “Go! Go!”
Ten seconds later, the truck rolled to a stop. Justin immediately killed the engine and took his foot off the brake. Everyone kept low, staying motionless.
“Vince… the radio.” Russo handed it to him, and Grant made his call. “Come in, Ray!”
The response came instantly. “Ray here! We’re clear. We’ve got the truck.”
“We’re coming back. Be there in less than ten minutes. Out.” Grant turned to Adler. “Let’s move.” Adler signaled Lang to get going, then he sat behind the cab. All the other men gave Adler and Grant some extra space.
As they started past the body laying in the ditch, Grant said, “Hold it!” He jumped out of the truck. “Vince, give me a hand.” Picking up the body, they rolled it on the truck. “Go!”
Grant walked to where Adler was sitting. Standing in front of him, he grabbed Adler’s shoulder with a firm grip. “You okay?”
“I am now.” Adler took a breath, somewhat hesitant to ask as he looked up at Grant. “Did you find Colonel Moshenko?”
Grant sat down, staring into the rugged, but tired face of his good friend. Resting his elbows on his knees he answered, “Yeah, he’s okay. He and the two Russians were hiding on the roof.”
“All that time?”
Grant nodded. “All that time.”
“And what about the workers?”
“Weren’t they with you?” Grant asked with surprise.
Adler shook his head. “No. We were caught just as we were going inside the hangar when those bastards attacked. Most of the workers were around their tools and equipment near the barracks and the dig.”
Grant studied Adler’s face for a moment before asking, “You got to know some of them, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. They were as friendly as hell, Skipper, always ready and willing to share anything they had, helping whenever they could.”
“Look, Joe. There’s no sense worrying. We’ll find out soon enough.” He leaned back, unable to explain to Adler the worry he himself had when he first heard the news from Torrinson.
Adler pulled his hat off and rolled it between his palms. He stared at Grant through bloodshot, blue eyes and with a half smile said, “Somehow I knew it’d be you coming.”
“Damn right, Joe. Couldn’t trust anybody else!”
They had been through too much together, on too many missions, knowing each other like the back of their hands. It turned into one of those moments when nothing else had to be said.
Simpson shouted from the cab. “We’re back, sirs!”
Grant and Adler stood. Looking over the rusted roof of the cab, they saw the SEALs waiting. Right there with them was Grigori.
As Justin pulled the truck in front of the barracks and shut off the engine, Grant’s thoughts were on Adler and his men. “Ray, you got anything hot for these guys?” he shouted at Moore as he jumped off the back.
Moore pointed to Cranston. “Find some coffee!” Cranston took off running.
Adler got off the truck, grabbing hold of Grant’s arm. “You need to go after them, Skipper. You need to stop those bastards.”
Grant understood Adler’s remark, seeing the anger on his face. The emotion fueling his remark was undoubtedly because he had formed a bond with the Italian workers.
But for now, Grant had to move on. He walked toward Moore, seeing two bodies and two men sitting in front of them on the truck bed. “What’d you find out from the G2?”
“Since the communication was next to impossible, we searched for and found a map and had him point to the spot. It’s some kind of nature forest, or something, just south of Palermo.”
Grant called, “Vince!”
Russo came running. “Sir?”
“See if you can get any more info out of that guy.” Grant pointed to the truck.
“Yes, sir.”
“Anything else, Ray?”
“We finally talked the AFN guy out of the building. He was as white as a ghost, shakin’ like a leaf. His name’s Sam Wright. He’s in the barracks.”
“And what about the workmen?”
“A few of ’em had been herded into the tunnel. It took awhile for us to calm them down, too. It was a challenge to understand them, but they indicated they were ordered to load the canisters and munitions.”