“Come on, punch it damn it,” he shouted over the alarms.
The engines seemed to take forever to respond to firewalling the throttles. A few long seconds later he felt the thrust coming on line.
The alarm stopped.
He eased the nose back up a little and let up on the thrust, making sure he was still in controlled flight before he started a gentler climb. He had always wanted to learn how to fly a Glufstream, but had never had the chance beyond twenty hours of simulator time. It was all just roll, pitch and yaw, he reminded himself as sweat poured off his body. The glass cockpit that he had once admired was now pretty damn intimidating. The basics were displayed by default-artificial horizon, airspeed, fuel-and they all looked good, best he could tell. All of the engine gauges were running parallel.
The desert sky was cloudless and that would help him visually navigate back to Stella. The Gulfstream was a beautiful piece of engineering and most likely came standard with GPS mapping capabilities, but he couldn’t take the time to fiddle with the monitors to figure it out. Right now he just needed to get it to a safe altitude, level out so he could pry the emergency axe from the copilot’s fingers and free himself from the damn zip-ties. But more than anything at that moment, he wanted to quit giving the captain’s corpse a lap dance.
Chapter Seventy
Gora Muruntau, Kyzyl Kum Desert, Uzbekistan
Camille ran back for the Dragunov, then sprinted down the runway toward GENGHIS. She now didn’t care so much about being seen by an invisible enemy. She was more concerned about being shot by disoriented friendlies. She pulled her hat off and let her hair fall to her shoulders, aware that her gender might be what convinced him not to shoot her, in case he didn’t recognize her at a distance. Now she couldn’t see GENGHIS, but only several bodies. As she neared, she could sense someone watching her. She could always feel it when she was prey. She just hoped it was only Iggy following her with his scope.
“Friend! LIGHTNING SIX!” she shouted at the top of her lungs. She waved her hands in the air as she approached the bodies.
GENGHIS and a prisoner she didn’t recognize lay behind corpses of the guards, using them for cover. Their hands were plastic cuffed, but they managed to point assault weapons at her. As soon as GENGHIS identified her, he lowered the gun and instructed the other guy to do the same.
“No offense, ma’am, but you’re the prettiest thing I ever saw,” GENGHIS said as she got closer. He pressed on the wound on his upper left arm.
Flies swarmed around her face, fighting the wind to get to the blood soaking her gritty hair. She was so thirsty she could barely swallow. Sand was a second skin. “You’ve lost a lot of blood. You’re hallucinating.” Camille turned to the prisoner. “Make absolutely sure they’re dead.” To GENGHIS she mouthed, “Who’s he?”
GENGHIS shrugged.
Just because the guy had been a Rubicon prisoner didn’t mean she trusted him around her with a weapon; she would have to disarm him. She handed GENGHIS her sidearm, a 9mm Makarov with a KGB emblem on the handle which she’d picked up in Tashkent. It would be easier for him than the AK. “Keep an eye on this for me, will you?” Camille kneeled beside GENGHIS and sliced through the plastic ties around his wrists and ankles, then cut away the blood-soaked sleeve.
“You got it,” GENGHIS said. He held the gun as he used the palm of the same hand to press on the gunshot wound.
“They’re all dead,” the prisoner said as he shuffled toward Camille, carrying a shorty AK. His hands were bound, but that wouldn’t stop him from pointing and spraying.
“Come over here and I’ll cut you free,” Camille said without taking the bloody knife from the holster.
As soon as he was near her, Camille rushed him, closing the distance. She pivoted her body from the line of fire right before she grabbed the butt of the weapon and twisted it away from his bound hands. At the same time she smacked her knee into his groin. He stumbled to the ground like a civilian. She turned the weapon around and pointed it at him.
“Bitch” he said, doubled over.
“Get up and walk ten feet that way and sit up on your knees. If you so much as stand, one of us will shoot you. And I have a guardian angel on the dunes, so keep that in mind.”
“We share the same enemy-Rubicon. I’ll help you,” he said as he struggled to his feet. “I’m no threat to you.”
“But until I have time to figure out who the hell you are, you’re our prisoner.” Camille kept the AK-102 trained on him as she backed toward GENGHIS.
Camille grabbed the radio. “TIN MAN, break camp and join me. Bring your gear.”
“Negative,” Iggy said. “Will maintain overwatch.”
She knew that Iggy was very worried they didn’t have an overwatch position providing security, even though she didn’t think there was any reason to believe that Rubicon would somehow approach them by surprise.
“We have a man down. I need your medic kit. Bring it.”
“Negative.”
“Dammit, GENGHIS will die. Bring it down, then you can reassume your position. We’ll see a dust cloud well in advance of any approaching vehicles. Come, on.”
After a pause, Iggy said, “Affirmative.”
Camille squatted beside GENGHIS, the AK slung around her shoulder. She pulled off her shooting glove. “Iggy has QuikClot, but I don’t want to wait. You’re losing too much blood.”
“Don’t bother with me. I’m fine.” GENGHIS tried to stand, then sat back down again.
“Dizzy?” Camille said as she glanced at the prisoner, who seemed to be compliant.
“Yeah.”
The hole was smaller than she expected for a second-hand steel-core cartridge. It must have hit a lot of bone, which slowed it down as it went through the guard. She had learned long ago not to second-guess gunshot wounds. Shots that should never kill often did and others that should’ve inflicted substantial damage sometimes barely slowed a target down. “Sorry. You moved a split-second after I squeezed off.”
“If I’d moved a few more inches, you would’ve had one shot, two kills-doesn’t get better than that in this business,” GENGHIS said, his voice stressed. He kept the Makarov pointed at the prisoner, although his aim wasn’t steady.
Sand was caked onto her fingers. She raked them across his pant leg, then she stuck them into her mouth and sucked as much sand and dirt off them as she could. She spat onto the ground, then pulled back on the edges of the wound. “This is going to hurt like hell. Brace yourself,” she said as she thrust her fingers into the wound and pressed. It was warm, wet and soft. “How the hell did you get a ticket for that flight with Hunter?”
“Pete set me up. She’s your traitor.”
“I know. How you doing?”
“Alive,” GENGHIS said in a whisper, his jaws clenched. “Just keep talking.”
“You’re in good hands. Daddy trained me well for combat wounds. You know he used to shoot my pet goats? It was up to me to save them or else they were Sunday dinner.”
“Sounds like Charlie. The man understood motivation.” GENGHIS smiled, but it was strained as he fought the pain. “You ever lose one?”
“Not many.”
Camille looked up as Iggy approached, lugging his gear. Hers was still on the dune. He kept his AK aimed at the prisoner as he dropped his pack near GENGHIS. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Pete sent me,” GENGHIS said.
“What are you talking about? Where is Pete?” Iggy glanced around as he pulled the medic kit from his rucksack.
“Dead.” Camille sighed. The bleeding was under control as long as she kept the pressure up. “She made a move on me.”
“She’s always making moves on you,” Iggy said with a laugh as he used his teeth to tear open a foil packet of QuikClot. “I hope for once this shit lives up to its sales pitch. So where is Pete?”