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“Where will we be going?” asked Emilio from the back seat.

Rojas turned and looked at the boy. He looked like a much younger version as his father and he had the same determined look Rojas had seen on his friend on many occasions. “Actually, I’m not sure. You may be going to the United States.”

Emilio got a surprised look on his face. The prospect of going there got his attention. “Do they play lacrosse there?”

“It’s actually where lacrosse was born. There are teams everywhere,” Rojas said smiling.

The boy sat back in the seat and tightened his grip on the stick. “I’m ready,” he said with a half grin.

The sound of a helicopter broke them out of their conversation. Rojas watched as the presidential helicopter came in slowly under the lights on the field. He quickly started the car and made a dash down the narrow space and across the street. Using the car as a battering ram, he crashed through the fence and drove onto the field.

Messina saw the wild dash and set the helo down in the middle of the field. As the fútbol team and its spectators watched, Rojas drove the car right up to the helicopter. The doors were flung open and Rojas and Christina spirited the children into the waiting aircraft. In no time, it was back in the air and moving rapidly into the darkness. Almost immediately afterward, a set of cars bound onto the field with their lights flashing.

Messina looked back at the field and increased the power to the engines to take the aircraft faster into the darkness. He also reached up and switched off the running lights. The next thing he did was switch off the IFF. Since the airport radar operators used the IFF instead of the raw return, it gave him a better fighting chance to get away.

Banking the aircraft back through the city, he kept it low to the buildings while running full speed back toward the mountains and the airstrip. Sitting in the front seat, he looked back and waved to his family, then reached over and took Rojas’ hand. “Thanks you. I owe you everything,” he said.

Messina switched off the interior lights and then punched up the intercom. “Okay, everyone just sit back and enjoy the flight. We’re going to be flying without lights, so just enjoy looking out the windows,” he said. He was rewarded by the family waving to him.

Messina turned to Rojas. “We’re not out of the woods yet. This will be an hour and a half flight and we may be sucking fumes by the time we get there. Help me watch for other aircraft, especially fighters.”

Fortunately, the secret police hadn’t thought about scrambling fighters because the nearest base was over fifty miles away. With thunderstorms rolling through the area, few were venturing into the air. The helicopter ran unopposed out of the city and into the mountains toward the distant flashes of lightning.

Chapter 15

Rescue

The Compound

Slowly, Chapman’s men moved toward the big wooden gates at the opposite end of the compound. In the towers, the men seemed more interested in keeping an eye on what was going on inside than outside the walls. After President Parente had left, the gates had not been closed. With them open, a breeze seemed to better fill the courtyard and cool the buildings. With the end in sight, there seemed little reason to close them.

Chapman led the first group to the right of the structure while Ricks and Second Lieutenant Mason took the left. At the far end of the compound, Ricks sent Miller and another sniper to the opposite end of the road so they would have an unobstructed view of the two guard towers. They would also be far out of the light from the compound. Seeing a third guard sitting outside one of the doors, Chapman detailed another to keep an eye on him.

There were no guards around the gate end of the compound. The open door actually cut both ways. It allowed the men to see in, but also left them exposed to be seen from inside. It would have to be fast. The thunder was helping them by masking a lot of sound. Chapman and Ricks gathered the men on either corner of the compound ready to spring inward.

The sound of a truck approaching forced the men to retreat back around the side of the wall. The large open truck, its back covered with a tarp, barreled down the mountain and swerved in toward the compound. It came to a screeching halt half way through the open doors. The driver leisurely got out of the cab and walked into the barracks. The men heard some laughter inside.

Chapman spoke into the radio. “Okay, plan two. Snipers in. Take station under the deuce and a half. Ricks, take four men and get behind that truck. The rest take station on either side. Snipers, let me know when you have a shot. Mason, take your men and keep the rest in the barracks. Everyone use their silencers. If we open up, they will come in from all sides. When I say go, we pounce,” he ordered. The men silently made their way into position and got ready to strike. They were interrupted again by the sound of drums from high up the mountain.

Suddenly one of the doors swung open and the sergeant began calling his people into the courtyard. The men filed out of the barracks and lined up while two others walked across the yard and went into the door where the hostages were kept. In a moment, the hostages were filed out and lined up against the wall. The sergeant was cursing them the whole way. He drew his pistol. “Now you will all see who is right and who is wrong here. Line them up facing the wall!” he ordered.

The obviously tired and tormented mayors were placed against the wall. Only one refused to turn around. Sharon Roberts was from New York. She didn’t turn away from anyone.

“Turn and face the wall!” screamed the sergeant.

“Fuck you. If I’m gonna die, I’m gonna make you look me in the eye while it happens,” she said defiantly. One by one the others turned around as well.

The sergeant smiled an evil smile. “My pleasure,” he almost spat. He turned to his men. “Squad. Ready,” he ordered. The men came to attention and brought their rifles up. “Aim!”

Several of the men lowered their rifles.

“What in the hell do you think you are doing?” the sergeant screamed. He pointed his pistol at the men. “Do you want to join them? I will gladly shoot you myself,” he shouted. As the men threw their rifles to the ground, the sergeant pointed his pistol at them in a rage.

Thunder filled the air as the sergeant’s head suddenly exploded, peppering the men nearest him with blood and bits of his brains. The two sentries saw what happened and raised their rifles when they too were suddenly struck and fell to the ground. The remaining men turned to see soldiers pointing their rifles at them and threw down their weapons. As they raised their hands the soldiers quickly ran in and placed them on the ground. Others ran up to the mayors and made sure they were alright.

Roberts let out a long breath. “My god, I thought we were at an end,” she said, almost collapsing after the experience.

Making a quick count, Chapman turned to the others. We have all fourteen. Let’s get them out of here. Kay May stopped them short. “It’s only thirteen. This man is a former guard who tried to help us,” she said pointing to Donado.

“Who’s missing?” asked Chapman.

“Where’s Patricia?” asked Ricks, looking through the crowd of people.

“She was taken this morning,” said Roberts. “You’ve got to hurry. They took her up to be a sacrifice just like poor Mitchell,” she said pointing up the hill.

Chapman didn’t wait. “Mason, take five men and get these people in the back of that truck. Get them to the airfield as quick as you can. Ricks, get the rest of the men and pile into this vehicle here. We need to get up that hill.