Raine pulled his pistol out and fired twice at the behemoth machine but it was no use. The hydrodynamic bullets weren’t designed to fly through air and even if they were, they wouldn’t have made a dent in the aircraft.
Tilting its nose, the pitch of its rotors changed and it thundered away over the island of Yonaguni and dropped out of sight.
“Shit!” Gibbs swore as he surfaced.
King was already powering himself towards the lifeless boat. He hit the aft sea steps, ripped the fins from his feet, the mask from his face, and pulled himself out of the water.
“Sid!” he screamed.
Raine followed seconds behind. “Oh god,” he whispered.
King flew across the deck to where Sid lay in a pool of blood. He threw the retrieved mask aside and slid onto the deck beside her, lifting her head. Her chest was a bloody mess, her clothes drenched. Her breathing was laboured and her eyes held such terror.
“Help me!” King bellowed. Raine was already there, pressing a hand against the woman’s gunshot wound. The bullet had hit her in the centre of the chest and despite knowing how futile it was, he applied pressure.
“Get the med kit,” he yelled to Lake who ran past and disappeared below decks.
“Hold on,” King told her. He stroked hair from her face and looked into her eyes.
“I’m… scared.” Her voice was a weak gurgle. Tears rolled down her face.
“Don’t be scared,” he said, his voice soft. He forced it not to crack. “It’s going to be okay. You hear me? You’re gonna be fine.”
Crouched beside the lovers, Raine glanced up at Gibbs who paced the deck furiously, cursing over the loss of the mask. He caught O’Rourke’s eye.
“I’m sorry,” King whispered to Sid. “This is all my fault. I should have listened to you. I should have quit while—”
“No,” she cut him off. He had to lean down to hear her. “You had to see this through to the end,” she said. “That’s who you are. And that’s why…” she arched her back and cried in pain.
“Where’s that goddamn medical kit?” King demanded.
“That’s why I love you,” she whimpered and then, just as though someone had dimmed the lights, Benjamin King watched as the life faded from her eyes until all that stared up at him were two lifeless orbs.
“No,” he choked. He felt as though he was going to vomit.
“Benny,” Raine said gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. Tears rolled in his eyes too.
“No!” King shrugged him off, placed Sid on the deck and then climbed on top of her. He began pressing her chest, pumping it desperately. How many movies had he seen someone be pulled back from the brink like this?
“Ben,” Raine said.
“Come on!” he pleaded with Sid’s lifeless body. Tears streaked his face and his breath was ragged.
Lake erupted upon to the deck but she did not carry a med kit. She carried one of the metal cases for the mask.
“Where’s the medical kit?!” King screamed at her.
She ignored him, walked up to Gibbs and opened the case.
Despite his concern for his friend, Raine watched the interaction. Gibbs began to laugh. It started as a chuckle then erupted into a belly-laugh. All eyes except King’s turned to him at the inappropriateness of his amusement.
“She took the wrong case,” he chuckled. “The stupid bitch took the fake mask!”
“Fuck the mask!” King bellowed at him. “Help me! Help her! Get the medical kit.”
“Ben,” Raine said more firmly. “Ben.” He grasped the other man’s shoulder and pulled him around. “They’re not bringing the medical kit.”
“We can still save her!”
Raine’s eyes locked onto Gibbs’ own. A knowing smile twisted the other man’s ugly features.
“They don’t want to save her,” he said.
This brought King up short. He frowned at Raine, trying to clear his head.
As if on cue, the CIA team all raised their semi-automatic P-90s. Tank and the other marine, Aiko, were pushed over to Raine as he helped King to his feet. The four of them stood near the rear of the boat, an execution squad lined up before them.
“What’s going on?” Tank demanded.
“Just following orders,” Gibbs replied.
“I don’t understand,” King stammered. “There’s still a piece of the mask to find—”
“They’ve had the other piece all along,” Raine cut him off. He glanced at O’Rourke with a disappointed frown. “Rudy? You knew all along?”
O’Rourke wouldn’t meet his gaze. “I’m sorry Boss,” he muttered.
“Well I’m not,” Gibbs replied. “Kill them!”
A burst of bullets erupted in a spray of fire from the muzzles of the CIA operatives, slamming into Raine, King, Tank and Aiko. The pain was blinding and King looked down as though in a dream, or a nightmare, as geysers of blood erupted from his own chest. He screamed in agony and felt darkness encroach even as he fell backwards into the shark infested water.
His last thought was of Sid.
Laurence Gibbs watched in satisfaction as his team’s bullets pummelled Raine and King’s bodies and they rolled backwards, torn and bloody, into the sea.
He walked to the aft of the boat and watched as the lifeless bodies of the four soldiers drifted into the inky blue, swallowed up in a red cloud of blood. As expected, it was only a matter of seconds before the first shark arrived. Dozens more soon appeared, swarming around the carcasses. The water frothed and churned as the creatures ripped into their hearty meal.
“What shall we do with her?” Garcia asked. Gibbs glanced at Sid’s body lying alongside Murray’s and the other marine. “They’re fish food now. Throw them overboard.”
Lake walked over carrying the team’s sat-com equipment. “Chopper’s on its way. ETA five minutes.”
Gibbs nodded then stepped over to O’Rourke. His African skin had turned green as he stared at the frothing mass of blood and gore in the water below, intensified each time Garcia rolled one of the other bodies into it.
“I know he was you friend,” he said with little sympathy in his voice. “But we are soldiers. We’re given our orders. We follow our orders.” Pep-talk done, he was back to business. “Now, prepare for evac!”
Five minutes later, the team and all their equipment had been winched up to a helicopter that had been on standby on the far side of the island. As it thundered away from Yonaguni and out over the Pacific Ocean, the C4 explosives attached to the boat’s fuel tank detonated and a fireball plumed into the sky, masking all the death, destruction and betrayal that had been left in their wake.
53:
Blood on their Hands
“Mister President, we have a National Security situation developing.”
President John Harper turned from the windows in the Oval Office. It had been a bright and warm day but storm clouds had rolled over the capital city, casting the green lawn in front of the White House into shadow.
Striding confidently into the room were Sec Def Mick Kane and CIA Director Jason Briggs.
“What is it, gentlemen?” Harper asked, coming around his desk and gesturing for the two men to take a seat on the blue couch. He sat opposite them as Briggs got right to the point.
“One of our assets in Beijing has informed us that the Phoenix files have been sent to a secure server inside Chinese Intelligence.”