He received an affirmative from the other members of the team and Raisor.
“All right,” Dalton said. “RVers, head for the first jump point.”
Leksi leaned down and placed his head alongside the rail. He could feel the slightest of vibrations. He stood, gesturing for his demolition men to work more quickly.
This section of track curved left, following the river. The demo men were placing two sets of charges on the rail. A pressure trigger was wired to the first set of charges. When fired, the explosives would take out a forty-foot section of track.
Leksi had carefully chosen this site. He knew that blowing a straight section of track would be fruitless— he had seen a train cross over sixty feet of blown track and pick up the track on the other side. But with the curve gone, the engine would smash into the mountainside on the east side.
He looked up the steep slope. His missile teams were settling in, throwing small camouflage nets over their positions. The FM radio hooked to his combat vest was crackling with noise.
“This is Tiger Flight. In position. Over.”
Leksi spoke, the voice-activated boom mike in front of his lips transmitting. “Hold until I call you in. Over.”
“Roger. Over.”
Leksi took one last look around, then sprinted for cover. He paused just before sliding off the embankment and looked up. He scanned the skies, but there was nothing he could see. Still, as he got behind the concealment of a large boulder, his eyes went once more to the sky, then to the rail.
“We ’ve spotted the ambush site,” Jackson reported through Sybyl. “The train is only about two minutes from passing through the kill zone.”
“Roger. We’re coming,” Dalton relayed back to her. “Jump point one. Let’s go!”
Dalton concentrated on the first point that had been relayed back by the RVers.
He was there. He paused only long enough to make sure the other members of the team came in. Then he was on to the second jump point.
Leksi pulled a set of night vision goggles out of his buttpack. The mercenary next to him stared at him in confusion. Leksi ignored him. He had learned early to trust his instincts.
He slipped the goggles over his head and, making sure they were turned to the lowest possible setting so they wouldn’t overload in the daylight, he switched them on. He scanned the sky. Nothing. Then he turned the switch to infrared.
Leksi paused in his scanning. There was something up there, a disturbance as if something was passing through the air, but he couldn’t see anything solid. Leksi frowned. He pulled the night vision goggles off and pulled his binoculars up and looked in the same direction. Nothing. He put the goggles back on and the sky was clear.
A tap on his arm brought his attention back to earth. He could hear the train now. The lead engine was in sight, a half mile away. Leksi reluctantly took the goggles off, the mystery of the disturbance having to be put off for the time being.
Dalton was the first one into the immediate rally point. He materialized, feeling the rocky ground under his feet. Other forms appeared all around.
“The train is about to enter the kill zone,” Jackson reported. Along with the message came the view she had. Dalton could see the train. And the ambushers.
He looked about the IRP. Everyone accounted for. Except Raisor.
“Anyone seen what happened to our CIA friend?”
The responses were all negative. There was no time to wait or to devise an elaborate plan.
“Captain Anderson. You hit the side of the hill and work your way down. My team, we’ll go right on top of the train. Clear?”
“Clear!”
The train hit the trigger. The explosion was relatively small, just enough to cut the track in both spots. The lead engine raced off the embankment and slammed into the rocky mountainside two hundred meters from Leksi’s position with an impact he could feel through the rubber soles of his boots.
The second engine buckled on top of the first, gushing steam forth.
The lone cargo car smashed into the back of the second engine, bounced off, broke its coupling, then rolled three times before coming to a halt, between the engines and Leksi.
Leksi jumped to his feet, waving with his free arm for his men to follow.
Overhead, the lead Havoc came racing in for a gun run. Two SAM-7 missiles flashed out of the hidden positions on the mountainside, and the gunship became a fireball.
The second one had been about a quarter mile behind the first, and the pilot desperately tried to pull out of his run.
Two more missiles fired. They closed the distance and hit the remaining Havoc.
Leksi put his AK-74 to his shoulder and fired a burst, killing a dazed soldier climbing out of the armored cargo car.
Feteror was still in the virtual plane. It was interesting keeping himself fixed in the center of the cargo bay of the MI-14 as it flew. He was watching the female colonel who had the case attached to her wrist. The army had changed much since his time. To trust such an important thing to a woman!
It was time.
He entered the real plane.
Colonel Verochka looked up, sensing the change in the inside of the cabin, the hair on the back of her neck rippling as if she had been touched by an electric shock.
Feteror materialized, letting color flow into the form of his avatar.
Verochka pressed back against the hard seat back in disbelief. The loadmaster ran for the cockpit, screaming into his microphone, but Feteror reached out and grabbed him around the throat with one massive hand. Feteror squeezed with that hand while he slammed the other into the man’s chest and through. The man screeched. Blood exploded out the back, splattering Colonel Verochka. The loadmaster’s head popped off with a horrible ripping and snapping sound.
Feteror threw the body to the floor and turned to the woman. Her right hand was scrabbling at her side, trying to draw the pistol strapped there, but her wide eyes were focused on him.
Feteror slashed out with his right hand, forefinger extended, a six-inch razor-sharp claw at the end. It sliced through Verochka’s wrist, cleanly severing her gun hand.
The door to the pilot’s compartment opened. The copilot stuck his head in, saw the demon and the carnage, and the door immediately slammed shut, the lock clicking.
Feteror drew back, pulling his wings up high, his most frightening pose. Thus he was caught off-guard when Verochka darted forward, blood still spurting from the stump of her right wrist. She ducked under his left wing. Feteror whirled.
Verochka had her left hand, briefcase tucked under the arm, on the lever that opened the side door. Feteror paused, confused.
Verochka opened the door, the wind ripping it away. She dove out with the briefcase.
Feteror roared and dematerialized. He re-formed, streaking down, following Verochka’s body. He was impressed, not only with the decisiveness of her actions, but the way she kept a tight body form on the way down, her arms tight at her side, head down. It was all so clear to Feteror; he could even see the thin trail of blood spurting out of her wrist into the air behind her.
He spread his arms, unfurled his wings, and scooped her out of her fall.
Feteror came to a hover, leaning his demon face into the colonel’s. “Very brave,” he hissed.
He felt her slam the briefcase against his back as she struggled. Her face was pale, from fear and loss of blood.