Evren’s APC stopped about thirty yards in front of Whack, and five soldiers dismounted, fanned out about six yards apart from one another, and lay prone on the ground with rifles raised. Whack noticed that the gunner’s cupola atop the APC was manned and the barrel of the 12.5-millimeter machine gun aimed right at him; there was also a Russian-made AT-3 “Sagger” antitank missile mounted on its launch rail, aimed at one of the Humvees. The second APC moved away, heading around Whack toward the XC-57.
“You!” Evren shouted in English. “Raise your hands and turn around!”
“Hayir,” Whack replied in Turkish via his electronic translator. “No. Leave us alone.”
“You are not permitted access to the plane.”
“We have permission from the Iraqi government and the plane’s owner,” Whack said. “This is a legal salvage operation. Leave us alone.”
“I repeat, raise your hands and turn around, or we will open fire.”
“I am an American, I’m not armed, and I have permission from the Iraqi government. You’re a Turkish soldier. I don’t take orders from you.”
Now Evren seemed to be confused. He pulled out his portable transceiver and spoke into it. “He’s obviously reached the limit of his rules of engagement,” Whack said over the command network. “Here’s where it’ll start getting interesting. Keep an eye on the second APC; it’s flanking me and heading your way.”
“Got it in sight, One,” came the reply from Charlie Turlock.
“The helicopter is about five minutes out, Rascal,” Patrick said.
“Copy. Let’s hope it’s just the TV news.” Whack thought for a moment. “I’m starting to get nervous about that machine gun and Sagger missile on this APC, guys,” he said. “Everyone, find some cover away from the Humvees.” Through his translator, he said, “Point your weapons away right now!”
“You will surrender immediately or we will open fire!” Evren shouted in return.
“I’m warning you, point your weapons away and leave us alone, or I’m going to rough you up,” Whack said. “I don’t care about this NATO ally shit—lower your weapons and go away or you’re all going to wake up in the hospital.”
Through the sensitive microphones built into the Tin Man suit, Whack heard Evren say the word ates. A three-round burst of rifle fire rang out, and all three rounds hit Macomber’s left thigh. “God bless it,” Macomber snarled. “The guy shot me in the damned leg.”
“He was only trying to wound you,” Charlie said. “Take it easy, Whack.”
Evren was obviously startled to see the figure still standing, even though he’d clearly seen all rounds hit. “One more warning, bub,” Whack shouted in Turkish. “If you don’t drop your weapons, I’m going to play a little tune on your skull with my fists.”
He heard Evren say, “Ohn ekee, bebe, sicak!” which meant, “The twelve and the baby, go hot,” and Whack radioed, “Take cover, knock out the APCs, now!” just as the gunner on the 12.5-millimeter machine gun opened fire.
With a blast of supercompressed air, Whack launched himself through the air and landed atop the armored vehicle. The gunner tried to follow him as he sailed at him, nearly knocking himself out of the cupola. After Whack landed, he bent the barrel of the machine gun until the weapon exploded from the pressure of unexpelled gases. But he wasn’t quick enough to stop the AT-3. The wire-guided missile flew off its launch rail and hit one of the Humvees, sending it flying through the air on a cloud of fire. “Everyone okay?” he radioed.
“Everyone was clear,” Jon Masters said. “Thanks for the warning.”
“Can I bust some heads now, General?” Macomber asked.
“I don’t want anyone hurt, Rascal, unless they go for Jon and the techs,” Patrick said. “Take their weapons only.”
“When are we going to knock off the ‘Kumbaya’ routine around here, sir?” Macomber asked half aloud. “Rascal Two, can you take out the twelve-point-five and the Sagger without hurting—” But at that moment there was a small explosion on top of the second APC, and the gunner jumped out of the cupola, beating sparks and small flames off his uniform. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it,” Charlie said.
Whack was taking sustained rifle fire from the Turks as he jumped off the APC and walked over to Evren; they didn’t stop firing until Whack grasped Evren by his jacket and lifted him off the ground. “I asked you nicely to leave us alone,” Whack said. “Now I’m going to be not so nice, arkadas.” As easily as tossing a tennis ball, Whack threw Evren a hundred yards through the air, almost all the way back to the highway. He then raced over and did the same to the other Turkish soldiers around him who hadn’t run away. “Is that okay, Genesis?”
“Thank you for showing restraint, Rascal,” Patrick replied.
Macomber jumped over to the other APC, but the Turkish troops had already run off…because they got a look at Charlie Turlock, aboard a Cybernetic Infantry Device guarding the other side of the crash site. She carried her own electromagnetic rail gun and wore a forty-millimeter rocket launcher backpack containing eight vertically launched rockets with high-explosive, antipersonnel bomblet, and smoke warheads, plus a reload backpack in the Humvee. “Everything okay, Two?”
“I’m clear,” Charlie replied. She pointed to the east. “That helicopter is in sight. Looks like a standard-issue Huey. I see a door gunner but no other weapons.”
“If he points that gun anywhere near our guys, take it out.”
“I got him zeroed in already. Looks like a cameraman in the door with him. Smile—you’re on Candid Camera.”
“Just great. Masters…?”
“I don’t even have all the access doors open yet, Wayne,” Jon said. “I’ll need at least an hour just to find out what’s what. It shouldn’t take long to pull the major components and LRUs—maybe three hours, tops. But I’d like at least eight hours to—”
“I don’t know if you have eight minutes, let along eight hours, but get moving and we’ll hold them off as long as we can,” Whack said.
“Maybe if you’d help us, we’d be done quicker,” Jon suggested.
Whack sighed inside his armor. “I was afraid you’d say that,” he said. “Charlie, you got security. I’m going to be a mechanic for a while.”
“Roger. That helicopter is starting to orbit us. Looks like they’re taking pictures. The door gunner’s not tracking anything on the ground.”
“If it looks like he’s going to engage, nail him.”
“With pleasure.”
“We’re engineers, not mechanics,” Jon corrected him. “But you’ll be the demolition guy.”
“Well, that sounds more like it,” Whack said.
The president picked up the phone. “Hello, President Hirsiz. This is President Gardner. What can I do for you today?”
“You can call off your attack dogs for one, sir,” Kurzat Hirsiz said from Ankara, “unless you are looking for war.”
“You refer to the incident at the crash site north of Mosul?” Gardner asked. “As I understand it, three of your soldiers were injured and two armored vehicles were damaged. Is that accurate?”
“Have you an explanation for this deliberate attack?”
“You’ll have to talk with the Iraqi government. The United States government had nothing to do with it.”