“Speak,” Grant said.
“That gunfire killed the engine on one of the trucks.”
Grant sucked in a lungful of air as he dropped his head back. “Shit!” Settling his eyes back on Moore, he asked, “Tell me it can at least be towed outta here.”
Moore shook his head. “Not with pancaked tires.”
Grant rubbed a hand across his face in total frustration. “How the hell are we gonna get this stuff outta here?” He started pacing back and forth, trying to rub the knot out of his neck. He hesitated only briefly before he answered himself. “We aren’t gonna get this stuff out of here.”
Adler stepped next to him and started to speak. “We… ”
“Joe, do you think those canisters are safe to move?”
“I took a quick look under the tarp, but haven’t checked them yet. But since they made it all the way from AFN, and we’re still breathing, so I’d have to say, yeah. Whatcha got in mind?”
Even though he believed Adler’s assessment, Grant hated the thought of possibly exposing his men to the shit in the canisters. But he didn’t think there was any other way. Torrinson was expecting all of it to be brought back.
“Ray, have somebody bring the rucksack to Joe, then you and the others start loading the canisters — carefully!”
“Aye, sir.” Moore pointed to Womack, who immediately took off running.
Grant and Adler stepped aside as the SEALs started ferrying out the canisters. Grant put an arm out, stopping Cranston as he walked by after seeing blood on the petty officer’s sleeve. “You sure you’re okay, Paul?”
“Yes, sir. It’s nothing serious.”
“Yeah, well, just in case… Ray, take care of it, will you?”
Grant brought his attention back to the cave and looked overhead and at the sides of the rock formation. “What do you think, Joe? Think we can limit the explosion to this end?”
Adler walked toward the outcropping where the back of the cave curved behind it, then gave a quick assessment. “Think this will shield a good portion of the blast. There’s enough distance between here and the entrance. Won’t be much of a cave after, though,” he smirked.
“Not our concern,” Grant replied, watching Womack bringing the requested explosives.
“Put them here by me, Ken,” Adler said.
Womack picked up the last canister and started to leave when Grant called, “Ken!”
Womack turned back. “Sir?”
“Get everything from the ‘dead’ truck. Make sure there’s enough room for our extra passenger that we’ve got hogtied.”
“Aye, sir.”
Grant walked back to the stash and pulled the pencil flares from the rucksack, sliding them into his left pocket. Just as he reached down to pick up a tarp the Italians had used, a more powerful, underground rumble, lasting longer than before, shook everyone and everything, making them set their legs apart, trying to keep their balance. Fine particles of dirt fell from the overhead. Stagnant water in the small puddles vibrated as the shaking continued. Even more disturbing was a small, jagged crack they noticed extending from beneath the back wall.
Adler shouted, “Maybe we won’t need those explosives, skipper!”
“Get started, Joe. I’m going to send the team on their way and call in for Grigori to get us the hell outta here!”
Gathering up the tarp, he took off running, shouting as he pushed through the trees. “Everybody! Get in the truck!” He tossed the tarp to Simpson and yelled, “Vince! Hand me the radio!” More rumbles underground shook the truck. “Grigori! Come in, Grigori!”
“Here, Grant!”
“Need pickup ASAP! You still got our coordinates?”
“Affirmative!”
“Bring Taylor! Look for my flares!”
“Departing now!”
Grant held onto the radio. “Gentlemen, get your asses outta here! Go straight to AFN. Let EOD handle that shit!” Grant just prayed he wasn’t making a mistake.
Moore jumped onto the running board on the passenger side, and looked over the roof. “You sure you want us to leave?”
“Get outta here! And don’t forget to pick up the passenger at the end of the road. Now, go!”
As he hustled back up the hill, he looked overhead. The sun was shining, the sky was blue, the mountain’s spewing fire, and the goddamn earth is shaking! Couldn’t be a more perfect day!
He yelled into the cave, “Joe, how ya doing?”
Adler’s voice echoed from the back of the cave, “Workin’ as fast as I can!”
“I’ve called Grigori! He’s on his way!” Grant shouted as he ran. He hooked the radio to his belt, then went to the rucksack and pulled out a block of C4 and wrap of det cord.
Adler was working at placing the C4 along the left side of the cave, then along the back wall behind the weaponry and munitions. Then, he started working in reverse, stringing the det cord, pushing it into the explosive, then sealing the C4 around it.
Grant was on the opposite side, going through the same motions, but he was working the overhead, stretching his arms high, pushing the C4 against the rock, then pushing in the det cord.
As he worked his hands on the present task, he couldn’t help picturing in his mind the number of times, the number of places, he and Adler had gone through this same process. How many times had buildings, tunnels, and even a Russian trawler been destroyed by their handiwork?
Adler’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Here are a few pencils. Put those in, then when we’re ready to haul, I’ll break ’em.”
Just from the angle the truck was parked below the cave, Castalani had a feeling something was wrong, even though he was still a hundred yards from the cave itself. He stared through the windshield as he shut off the engine. Then, he got out, and quietly closed the door. Keeping his eyes focused on the truck, he slid his hand inside his wool jacket and drew out a Beretta from his leather shoulder holster.
Staying along the right side of the beaten path made by the caravan, he stepped along the flattened grass, quickly making his way toward the cave, straining to hear anything out of the ordinary, anything that would give him a heads up, but still hoping to hear familiar voices.
As he approached the truck, he stopped momentarily in front of a thicket of five foot high brush. Taking only one step at a time, he stayed close to the prickly branches, holding the gun in front of his chest.
From somewhere behind the tree line that covered the cave’s entrance, he thought he heard a voice but he wasn’t able to distinguish words being spoken.
Leaning into the thicket so he could get a better view of the truck, he finally got a glimpse of the damage. Bullet holes! Cautiously working his way down the passenger side, he stopped by what once were headlights, seeing glass strewn on the ground in front of the engine, noticing tires blown out. But it was the dark stain on the dirt just beyond the truck that caused the anxiety and made his hands sweat. The sight of blood never affected him; he’d seen more than his share. Who the blood belonged to was what worried him.
Looking up toward the tree line, he expected to see at least one of the guards. Not wanting to believe the hiding place had been compromised, or that anything happened to his men, he had no choice but to investigate.
Grant took a quick glance at his watch. “Grigori should be more than halfway here,” he commented as he inserted the last of four chemical pencils into the C4. The pencils had a five minute time delay once the ampoule was broken, giving them enough time to haul ass.
Adler closed one of the rucksacks and slung it over his shoulder. “I’m gonna take one of these out front. Is it time to light off one of those flares?”
“Let’s hold off until we’re cleaned up here, Joe. Unless Grigori has kicked that chopper into overdrive, we should be good.”