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He headed the Little Bird to the southwest side of the village. When he had the distance he wanted, he swung it completely around, aligned it with the main road coming off the highway and checked the Gatling gun switches. “Initiating first pass.” He threw her into a steep dive and yelled, “Banzai!”

A few seconds later, Beach Dog pressed the trigger and scores of bodies tumbled to the ground as if someone had jerked a giant carpet out from under them.

“Nice shooting,” Iggy said with a smile. “And Beach Dog, those of us on the ground that night in Mog appreciated you working overtime.”

“Is that where you picked up the spare parts?” Beach Dog threw the helicopter into a steep climb.

“Afghanistan. Operation Anaconda.”

“Now I heard Anaconda was a real turkey shoot.”

“A cluster fuck’s more like it. Turkey shoot’s the military’s official version.” Iggy looked down to assess the damage. “Take us in for a second pass.”

Hunter recognized the sounds and did his best to make a mental picture of the battlefield, but he couldn’t figure out what the hell was going on, except that Stella had her hands full with insurgents flocking to the action. There was a reason the good guys worked at night and she knew better than to stick around anywhere for more than a few minutes in the daylight. Her passions always did threaten her judgment, not that she would ever believe it. She would claim it only happened with him and, on second thought, she might be right. They had a way of stirring passion in one another.

He watched the RPG slam into the Rubicon Mi-8, then felt the thunder of the crash. Black Management’s Little Bird swooping in behind it with its machine guns blazing blew his mind. He had never imagined that Stella would ally with Rubicon to neutralize him, though he wasn’t going to completely rule out that they were both after him, getting in each other’s way. At least the woman was making more sense to him as he felt his own anger. The more he thought about Stella in the trailer reaching for a weapon to kill him right after they’d made love, the more the anger grew. A little jealousy over the tattoo with another woman’s name on it, he could understand, but she had been out for blood. Before, he had not been able to understand her ferocity, but now he, too, had something burning inside, the flames leaping higher as he thought about the audacity of Stella sending her own private army after him.

He was on fire.

No way in hell was she going to get him.

Gunfire came from all directions. He hunched behind an old wooden cart, closed his eyes for a moment and listened for the distinctive crackle of M4s. The constant AK fire made it nearly impossible to localize any sounds, but he made his best guess and headed away from the Americans, toward the tangos.

Camille knew they would take more casualties if they couldn’t stop the rooftop action. Had it been Rubicon instead of the insurgents, she was sure that she and her troops would all be dead, but the tangos were sloppy. She was deciding who she would take with her if they had to fight their way to the rooftops when the call came in from Iggy that the machine guns of a Black Hawk were on their way.

“Inform PANTHER TWO that as soon as their gunners engage, CHALK ONE is moving,” Camille said.

“That’s affirmative,” Iggy said. “Stay with a compass heading of 220 for one-half click for the nearest possible LZ. We’re too tied up here to direct you to CHALK TWO. You’ll rendezvous there.”

Camille listened for the whoosh of the Black Hawks and realized she heard only AK fire and the wailing call to prayer coming from the distance.

Rubicon had pulled back.

She hoped the downed helicopter was enough of a black eye to get them to focus on the insurgents and quit messing with her. She had to get her troops out of there before more tangos arrived and pinned them down.

PANTHER TWO roared overhead and its staccato machine gun fire was deafening. Camille flashed hand signals to her men to move out. She extended her hand to GENGHIS and he surprised her by taking it. He pulled himself to his feet, then pushed her away.

Their guns fanning the streets ahead, they worked their way toward the pick-up zone. The situation had gone to hell faster than she’d anticipated and she couldn’t risk her troops any further.

Hunter was on his own.

God help him.

None of the Iraqis seemed to look twice at Hunter. No one cared about a big, ugly pregnant woman, not with so much action around them. Since he could pass as one of them at a distance, he stuck to the tight back alleys, somewhere usually far too dangerous for an American. The narrow alleyways made the streets seem all that much wider and more vulnerable. He stood ready to cross what seemed to be a main artery.

He first looked left, then right at Stella.

The Black Hawk gunners were working their magic, making the tangos disappear and Camille and her unit were jogging toward their extraction point when something made Camille take a second look at an expectant mother.

“Hunter?”

The idiot turned and ran.

Hunter’s gait was so wide, he popped the buttons on the overcoat as he sprinted. He emerged from between the buildings and ran onto a wide street, directly into a group of soldiers, Rubicon troops.

“Hey! That’s the guy! Grab him!”

A dozen Rubicon troops were a few yards in front of him and Stella was right behind him. He had a fraction of a second to decide his fate. The bitch would probably down him as soon as she got a clear shot, but Rubicon would want to talk to him before killing him. Rubicon and Black might be working together to capture him, but as soon as one side caught him, the cooperation would end. He knew which side would give him the better chance of survival.

Hunter ran to the Rubicon soldiers with his hands in the air.

“I surrender.”

Chapter Forty-Five

More than 1,500 South Africans are believed to be in Iraq under contract to various private military companies.

– The Cape Times, February 4, 2004, as reported by Beauregard Tromp

Jabal ad Dhibban, Anbar Province

As soon as Camille spotted the Rubicon troops, she stopped and held her fist up in the air, signaling her men to hold their positions. She was stunned as she watched Hunter raise his hands and give himself up to Rubicon.

Hunter, you stupid, stupid man.

She got on the radio. “TIN MAN, I need your eyes now!”

“LIGHTNING SIX, stand by. PANTHER TWO, can you assist?”

“LIGHTNING SIX, this is PANTHER TWO. We got ya. I see about a dozen of you standing in a street that’s at least one house wide.”

“Negative PANTHER TWO, not us. You’re looking at Rubicon troops.” AK fire came from across the street from Rubicon’s position, but she figured that was their problem. She ignored it and described her position and what she needed from him. The Black Hawk pilot directed three teams through the maze of streets and alleyways so they could take position, flanking Rubicon. One stayed behind to close the trap.

So far so good, Hunter thought. The Rubicon troops seemed to accept his surrender. They took his knife and gun and he stood with his arms in the air while a young kid, probably a former Ranger, stripped him of his costume and shoved him down onto his knees. The kid glared at him the same way he had glared at hundreds of tangos. AK fire ricocheted on the ground. A Rubicon soldier held his weapon in one hand and popped off a burst.

The kid zip-tied Hunter’s hands behind his back, then shoved him in front of an older South African merc who had clashed with Hunter before on previous Rubicon missions. Hunter had seen him kill several noncombatants in cold blood, but reports of that to his Rubicon superiors had only been enough to get the merc kicked off his team, but not enough to get him fired.

“My original orders were to kill you on sight.” The South African grinned, exposing yellow teeth. “But now I understand that we’re going to let your girlfriend do it for us.”