Two ear-splitting explosions and intense white lights lit up the horizon, catching trees and brush on fire. Thick smoke filled the night sky above the forest. Diaz and Slade had each placed a flash-bang grenade on opposite sides of the trail, using paracord as tripwire. Maybe all the Russians wouldn't be taken out of commission, but it was a start.
"C'mon, Joe! Move!" Grant shouted, keeping his eyes on the shoreline.
With the engine primed, Adler locked the engine's lift lever, set the handle to neutral, set the gas button to "on" then pulled the rip cord. The engine sputtered, then caught. He immediately adjusted the tiller, setting the boat in motion, then he hunched forward. The bow rose out of the water, and as the speed increased, it settled back down.
"Company! One o'clock!" Novak shouted, seeing several Russians running from the east end of the beach. They lined up, and took aim with their rifles.
Pankova was sitting up, trying to stay balanced, when Grant pointed at her. "Get down!" She curled up in the middle of the boat, pressing her hands over her ears. "Mike! Fire at will!"
Novak's first shot put one Russian down, then another. The Team opened up. The Russians returned fire. Bullets whizzed over the boat, and along port and starboard, narrowly missing the hull, striking the water.
With the throttle fully open, Adler steered the boat on a zigzag course, keeping it on a heading of north northeast. Water flew out from under the hull with each quick change of direction. Finally, the boat was out of firing range of the AKs, but the Russians continued firing. Adler kept the power on.
Whether in international waters or not, everyone knew they were still in danger and immediately refocused, searching for possible patrol boats.
When land was out of sight, Grant picked up an aluminum tube flare gun near his feet. One inch in diameter, twelve inches in length, it could fire as high as 1,000 feet. Aiming the gun high and at a slight angle, he fired. Within seconds the charge exploded with a loud bang, releasing a bright burning flare suspended from a small parachute that began drifting down very slowly. All they could do was wait and watch for the Sea Knight.
Slade removed a flare from his chest vest, ready to light it when the Sea Knight was in range. A sound in the distance, a chopper, got their attention. But the sound wasn't coming from the direction they expected, instead it came from west southwest. Suddenly, a bright spotlight flashed, casting its beam across the water.
"Holy fuck!" Slade shouted.
Within seconds of spotting the enemy chopper, Adler noticed tiny dots on the northeastern horizon. "One o'clock!" The Sea Knight's navigation lights grew brighter.
Grant's attention was drawn again to the other chopper. "Mike! Kill that goddamn spotlight!" Adler held the boat steady, no longer zigzagging as he waited for Novak to take a shot.
Novak spun around, landing on his butt. He braced himself, adjusted the scope's crosshairs, took a breath, then squeezed the trigger. The light exploded. Adler immediately realigned the bow with the oncoming Sea Knight, as the enemy chopper briefly hovered, then suddenly started toward them again.
Novak kept his scope trained on the UF chopper. "Gunner!"
"Take him out!" Grant ordered.
The Sea Knight was in full view now, with its gunner poised behind his .50 cal. Before Novak could fire, the Sea Knight gunner fired a warning burst past the port side of the enemy chopper, then another under it.
Adler kept the boat moving the same speed, heading toward the Sea Knight, when the enemy chopper made a wide turn to starboard, going back the same way it came from, most likely to a base in East Germany.
"Damn!" Stalley said, swiping a hand across his forehead under his watch cap.
Slade lit the flare, marking their position for the Sea Knight. Adler slowed the boat. The chopper was hovering, when the pilot turned it 180 degrees. The cargo ramp was already lowered as the chopper descended, with a slightly nose up attitude.
Crew Chief Brenner hustled through the cargo bay, assuring jump seats along both sides were up and secured temporarily. Hanging onto a safety line, he walked halfway down the ramp, with water beginning to splash over his boots. Crouching down, with NVGs in place, he looked into the darkness of the Baltic Sea. He adjusted the mouth wire, reporting to Lieutenant Anderson, "Fifty yards out! Closing fast!"
Adler held the tiller steady, then decreased speed, lining up the bow with the ramp.
Grant put a hand on Pankova's back. "Hang on!"
"Twenty yards!" Brenner reported, as he tugged on the line, drawing himself closer to the bulkhead.
Adler cut the engine's power, lifted the props out of the water, just as the boat slid across the ramp. The Team scrambled out, tugging the boat into the cargo bay.
"Home and secured!" Brenner reported, as he raised his NVGs.
Within seconds, rotor noise and vibration increased two-fold as Anderson started the chopper's ascent. Water flowed over the end of the ramp, dumping back into the sea. The cargo door raised, sealing everyone inside.
Stalley helped Pankova out, then made sure she was seated with seat belt locked. "Ma'am, can I give you aspirin now? It should help relieve some of your pain."
"Yes. Thank you."
Brenner passed around earplugs, then he stopped by Grant. "Sir, Lieutenant Anderson would like a word."
Grant took off his watch cap, tucked it under his belt, then handed his rifle to Adler.
On his way to the cockpit, he stopped by the gunner, offering his hand. "Good shootin' back there. Thanks."
"My pleasure, sir."
"You wanted to see me, Lieutenant?" Grant asked, leaning into the cockpit.
"Yes, sir. We're heading back to Tegel, but I've requested a flight path that'll take us outta harm's way this time. It might take longer, but I think you'll agree, sir."
"Couldn't agree more," Grant answered with a slight grin. "We've had enough excitement for one day." He turned to go back to the cargo bay, but paused a moment, looking at Pankova. The bruise on her cheek already turned black and blue; her eye was almost swollen shut. Stalley had dressed and treated cuts on her temple and forehead.
Grant walked in front of her, then knelt on a knee. "Are you feeling any better?"
"Somewhat. You know, after all we've been through together, I don't know any of your names." She winced trying to smile. "Or are they government secrets?"
"No, ma'am, not really secrets, but I guess most of the time we like to 'fly under the radar' so to speak. Listen, just to ease your mind, Alexei is safe at the U.S. Embassy in Berlin."
She breathed a heavy sigh, and reached for Grant's hand, feeling its strength and comfort. But then she realized what he'd said. "He's in Berlin?"
"Yes, ma'am, but that'll be explained later." Grant gave only a hint of a smile, then added, "We'll be landing at Tegel. We'll have to contact Washington to confirm where … "
"Where I'm to be sent?"
"Yes, ma'am. We land at the military terminal, so there'll be security for you. I have my doubts you'll be staying long, though." Grant stood. He motioned to Stalley, mouthing the word 'water' and tilting his head toward Pankova. Stalley handed her a filled paper cup.
"I know it's noisy in here," Grant smiled, "but you try and get some rest."
Plopping down on the seat next to Adler, he fastened the seat belt, then leaned back and closed his eyes.
"Whatcha thinking?" Adler asked loudly over engine noise.
Grant kept his eyes closed. "Just wondering if CIA found Reznikov."
"Well, while you wonder about that, I'll picture the huge steak I'm gonna order at the first restaurant we see."