Nathan waited until Harv moved out before following. Harv was a good point man. Like Nathan, he knew to avoid stepping on certain types of exposed roots because of their softer skin. They weren’t overly concerned about leaving footprints, because no one was following them. Every one hundred yards or so, Harv would pause and hold up a closed fist. It was standard practice to stop and check for human presence, but the unbelievable din of the forest drowned out a lot of sound. It took a practiced ear to hear something that didn’t belong. Jungle stalking was a double-edged sword. It was easy to conceal yourself, but equally difficult to spot someone with the same intent.
They arrived at the top of the ridgeline twenty minutes later and had to move laterally to get a clear line of sight through the trees to the south. Across a thousand-yard canyon, scatter point alpha wasn’t more than a bump in the next ridgeline, but it had a distinctive shape, like a bowling pin lying on its side.
“There’s alpha,” Harv said.
“If anyone’s waiting for us over there, we’ll never see them unless they want to be seen.”
“I’ll take a look with the field glasses anyway. Our half-moon is getting low on the horizon. We’ll use NV from here on. At the bottom of the canyon, we’ll put on our ghillies for the ascent.”
“I hate to admit it, but I’m kinda hoping no one’s there.”
Harv nodded. “Yeah, me too. It wouldn’t break my heart to beat feet outta this place.”
As predicted, Harv didn’t detect any human presence. All was quiet. On par with the weather report the Navy had given them, patchy clouds were moving in, but they didn’t look heavy enough to produce rain.
Harv took point again, and they started down the slope. Although they could’ve gone faster, they maintained a slow pace, careful not to make any discernible noise. Nathan felt as though they were being watched from across the canyon but dismissed the thought as paranoia. No one should be able to see them through all the undergrowth. Up ahead, Harv diverted to the west to avoid a dangerously steep section left over from an old landslide.
At the bottom of the canyon, they found a stream flowing to the northeast that would ultimately join the Rio Coco. The trickle of its water had a soothing sound, but neither of them felt especially relaxed. If there was going to be an ambush, it would likely occur up at alpha.
After slipping into their two-part ghillie suits, they looked each other over, making sure their coats weren’t snagged on their backpacks or waist packs. Their jacket hoods wouldn’t completely conceal their NV goggles without hampering their use, but only the last inch or so of their dual scopes would be visible. Using black elastic straps they’d sewn to the inside tops of their hoods, they secured the straps under their chins to keep their hoods from being pulled back by brambles and low-hanging branches.
“We’ll make the ascent in parallel formation,” Nathan said. “I’ll take the left. Thirty-yard separation. Harv, we aren’t being taken prisoner.”
“Understood.” His friend pulled his Sig and deployed out to the right.
Nathan mirrored the move to the left, envisioning himself as a wraith, slowly moving in for the kill. He used this mindset to keep his senses focused and sharp. In nature, most predators employed some form of stealth, and this situation was no different. They didn’t plan on killing anyone tonight, but they wouldn’t hesitate if the situation required it.
After fifteen minutes of climbing, it was impossible to determine how close to the ridgeline they were — the canopy prevented them from seeing its dark outline. The sound of the jungle was slightly less pronounced up here, but it didn’t concern Nathan. It was always noisier in basins and canyons near water.
Taking steps every three or four seconds, they climbed for another five minutes. It was a tediously slow pace, but it prevented a potential enemy from detecting their movement. Nathan kept looking up, hoping for a glimpse of the summit.
Then he stopped cold, frozen by the sudden sound of a helicopter.
CHAPTER 10
Nathan looked for Harv, but saw no sign of him.
The unmistakable thumping of a main rotor echoed in from the northeast. And it was definitely getting louder.
Nathan felt his entire body tighten, and he forced himself to think before moving. He looked through the treetops, hoping to catch the flashing beacon of a commercial bird but saw nothing.
Without warning, the noise tripled in intensity. The helo was flying low, and it must’ve just cleared the ridge they’d traversed.
Abandoning all stealth, Nathan hustled over to a massive tree and put its trunk between himself and the threat. He unslung his rifle, thumbed the safety, and steeled himself for a fight.
If the helicopter were merely passing through, he’d have his answer within the next fifteen seconds. He pressed his chest against the tree, hoping it wasn’t crawling with ants. Fighting two battles didn’t seem fair. Time seemed to stretch as the whooping slaps of the helo’s main rotor pulsed up the canyon.
Nathan breathed a sigh of relief when the noise quickly faded. From what he could surmise, the helo had been on a westerly course, and it had just ducked behind the ridge they were climbing.
If that had been a military bird, he knew they wouldn’t have been spotted by night vision, but a thermal imager might’ve nailed them. It was impossible to know why it had crossed the area, but the Honduran border wasn’t more than six or seven miles away, so it could’ve been a routine patrol. Their current location was only an hour’s flight from Managua. The Rescue Hawk had flown well under the radar, and even if it had been seen, a Nicaraguan patrol bird should’ve scoured the area hours ago.
He looked for Harv and saw his friend standing on the south side of a tree, also in an effort to visually screen himself from the helicopter’s line of sight. Nathan issued a closed fist and then spread his fingers. Harv acknowledged with an okay gesture. They’d sit tight for five minutes to make sure the helo didn’t return. The NV-capable weapon sight on his M40 was zeroed for three hundred yards, so if the helicopter reappeared and things turned ugly, Nathan was more than capable of accurately shooting at its crew or engine compartment. If the bird was one of the Nicaraguan air force’s Mi-24 Hind attack helicopters, Nathan knew the Hinds employed armor plating to protect their vital areas, which meant he’d have little chance of shooting it down. The best he could hope for would be a wounding shot to make it withdraw. He felt fairly confident it hadn’t been a transport; its rotor noise hadn’t been throaty enough.
There was no sense in speculating further, but he wasn’t convinced the helo’s passage across the canyon wasn’t connected to them. Hearing several helicopters at the same time could’ve meant serious trouble, because each Hind had the capacity to carry eight combat troops and all their gear.
He didn’t deny his previous ordeal down here made him edgy, but it was prudent to hold their position for a spell. They had time. If all went well, they’d have alpha thoroughly scouted before their mysterious messenger arrived, but he suspected the reverse was true. If their messenger possessed formal Echo training, he would’ve arrived by now to secure the area himself. And he might not be alone — there could be more than one person up there.
Before five minutes had elapsed, Nathan gave Harv the form-up gesture, and they moved laterally toward each other.
“Talk about a pucker factor,” Harv said.
“Yeah, no kidding. Think it was a Hind?”
“Probably. It didn’t sound like a transport, and it was definitely a single rotor. Its noise was never constant, so I don’t think it hovered and deployed troops. If it did, we could be facing a squad-sized force.”